Remembered Fears
by Lucinda
Summary: Hank Summers thinks about a few things in his life, and a choice that he made before, and one that he must still make. Crossover with XMen.
1. Remembered Fears

author: Lucinda

rating: pg/pg13

main character: Hank Summers

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the series - both were created by Joss Whedon. I hold no legal rights to any character you may recognize from any other book/series/movie.

distribution: Jinni, Paula, anyone else ask.

note: Jinni's weekly poetry challenge #7.

REMEMBER me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann'd:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

Christina Georgina Rossetti - Remember

He'd never be able to explain it to Joyce, or to Buffy. How would he be able to make them understand the danger, to make them believe him? It sounded so impossible after all... And it would involve digging up a good deal of his family past that he'd prefer to leave buried.

He'd rather let things stay at a fuzzy 'his parents divorced when he was young'. If he could leave out the part where they'd divorced because his mother had discovered that Christopher Summers's young lover was pregnant with his baby... Well, he would have had the chance to grow up with both parents, instead of just his mother.

But the rest of it... To explain that there was a demented scientific monster after his half brother for his DNA... That their daughter might be at risk because of this madman...

Sinister must never get his hands on Buffy.

He didn't even know how it was possible that such a frightful thing could exist. Sinister looked like a man, but with glowing red eyes, and skin that was as pale as one of those toadstool-mushrooms that had grown in his mother's front yard. He'd been in an argument with Scott Summers, Hank's half brother.

The brother that he wasn't even supposed to know about. But he'd found the clipping in one of his mom's old photo albums, and had tried to learn more about his father, about his father's other family. For a while, he'd lost sight of his brother, after the plane accident that had killed Christopher and Anne. Scott and Alex had both been sent to foster homes, and he'd lost track of Alex entirely, never quite able to find him again.

Granted that his education had been in business, but Hank Summers knew trouble when he stared at it's pale, freaky looking face across a small park. 'I will have the Summers genes!' was not a friendly thing, and he didn't think that this guy was the sort to just attend scientific lectures. The impression that he got was something much closer to the whole nazi-experimentations and horror movie mad scientists type of thing.

The idea of making contact with his brother didn't seem quite as appealing after that. What if that frightful thing wanted HIS Summers genes? Or his daughter's...

Buffy wouldn't be safe from that madman. Especially not if he did make contact with Scott, and if that madman learned about him. There had been problems lately anyhow, maybe it would be for the best?

It was only later that he realized that he'd been too fearful, too paranoid. Only after the papers had been signed and trust shattered that he realized that he didn't want them far away from him where they would be safe. Only too late that he realized it was better to have them here where he could see them, hug them.

And all he could do was blame himself and his fears.

He might as well go back to New York,. try to make contact with his half brother. Maybe convincing Scott that they were related would be easier than trying to explain to Buffy and Joyce why he'd done it.

What else did he have to loose anyhow?

end Remembered Fears.


	2. Following Me

author: Lucinda

nothing worse than the comics or BtVS

main characters: Hank Summers, Scott Summers

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the series - both were created by Joss Whedon. I hold no legal rights to any character you may recognize from any other book/series/movie.

distribution: Jinni, Paula, anyone else ask.

notes: sequel to 'Remembered Fears', set roughly around season 1 or 2 BtVS.

Scott tried to hide his confusion and frustration. That man was there again, watching him. He didn't know who the man was, an ordinary enough man dressed in a business suit, apparently reading a newspaper. He blended with the dozen other men in suits, drinking coffee and reading papers at the little corner cafe.

Except that he hadn't turned a page in ten minutes. Except that his eyes were following Scott. Except that he'd seen the same man watching him for two weeks now.

It couldn't be a coincidence. The man had to be following him, watching him for some reason. Scott just didn't know what that reason was. Did it have to do with his connection to Xavier's? Was the man a bigot that hated mutants, determined to find a moment to beat his point home on the man in the funny glasses? Was he a thief? An agent of the government?

He could sit here all day, wondering and guessing, or he could ask the man and find out. The cafe wasn't crowded, but it was busy enough that most people wouldn't want to cause a scene, it was unlikely the man would attack. For a few moments, Scott debated the pro's and con's of just asking the man why he was following him. If the man was clever, he might try to claim that he wasn't following him, there was just some misunderstanding, and then Scott would look bad in front of everybody else.

Or he could do nothing, and wait while the man followed him for another week or two.

No. He was not going to wait, stewing in his frustrated curiosity for another week while the man in his suits prepared to do whatever it was that caused him to be following and watching for so long. Given the past, there was too much of a risk that the man would be a danger to the school and the students.

He stood up, dropping his emptied cup into the trash as he moved towards his stalker. Settling in the seat opposite the man, he considered him for a moment. The other man looked to be close to Scott's age, and while he wasn't in terrible shape, most spies and government mutant hunting agents were in better physical shape than this man.

"Why have you been watching me?" Scott spoke in a normal tone of voice, neither shouting or whispering, and hoped that the frustration wasn't so apparent.

"You're Scott Summers, the son of Anne and Christopher Summers, aren't you?" The man's words weren't really a question, and they were spoken in a voice that was almost calm, betraying a hint of nervousness.

Scott tensed, wondering if this apparently ordinary man was sent by Sinister. He'd tried to have plans for government agents, or for bigots, but someone investigating his family? Slowly, he admitted, "Yes, those were my parents' names. They died in a plane crash a long time ago."

For a few moments, the other man was silent. "Did you know that Anne wasn't Christopher's first wife?"

"What?" The words took Scott by surprise. What did that have to do with the other man being here? "When did he have this first wife, and who was she?"

"Her name was Emily, and they were married in 1947." The man took a sip of coffee, his hand shaking. "Emily filed for divorce in 1953 when she discovered that not only did Christopher have a lover, but that his lover was pregnant."

Scott listened with a feeling of dread. He had been born in 1953, the same year that his parents had gotten married. The coincidence seemed a bit too much for this man's words not to be going somewhere. Softly, the words slipped out, "What was her name?"

"Her name was Anne. Less than a month after the divorce was finalized, Christopher married Anne. That year, she had a son that they named Scott. Two years later, they had a son named Alexander." The man sighed, and looked up, his eyes focused on Scott's. "Christopher and Anne died in a plane crash, and the boys were put into separate foster homes. I couldn't track down what happened to Alex."

"Why were you trying to find him?" Scott could hear his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and his stomach was a tangled, cold knot.

"My mother was Emily," the man glanced down for a moment, before looking up with a half smile. "My name is Hank Summers. Christopher was my father too."

For a moment, Scott couldn't make sense out of the words, couldn't register their meaning. It felt like the pieces drifted slowly, with the speed of a turtle or a glacier before meaning became clear. "You're my brother? I have a brother."

"I couldn't find a death certificate for Alex, so it looks like you have a brother that we don't know the location of, and a half brother." There was a pause, and the man's fingers tapped against the table. "I'm older, by the way."

Scott nodded, trying to fit this new information into his understanding of his family. "So, that's why you've been following me? Why not just... send a letter, or make a phone call or something?"

"I probably would have, at first. This..." Hank paused, trying to find the right words. "I first found out that you were here a couple years back. I came to New York, intending to walk up to your school and introduce myself. While I was trying to figure out where the place was, there was this fight. I don't know what he was, some horrible toadstool-pale man with red eyes, shouting about the Summers genes. I was terrified, and immediately caught the first flight back to California that I could arrange."

Scott shuddered at the mention of what could only be Sinister. "If you mean who I think you mean, I don't blame you for heading back to the west coast."

"I say pale skin, red eyes, and shouting about genes and you have more than one candidate?" Hank shivered, and drank the last of his coffee. "Your life must be horribly interesting."

"There are times when that description sounds about right," Scott agreed.

"I thought about things," Hank looked at his left hand, rubbing at his ring finger. "After a while, I decided that I might as well try to meet you. I figured that there really wasn't anything left that it would hurt, and I'd been curious for such a long time."

"In that case, there's a lot to talk about, and I'm not sure this is the best place for it." Scott stood up, motioning for Hank to follow. "Why don't we go for a bit of a walk?"

"Why not?" There was something in Hank's smile that suggested that there was more to his story than he was willing to admit at the moment. "I don't have anywhere else to be right now."

Together, they left the cafe. Scott just hoped that Hank was really what he appeared to be, a man searching for his family. If that was the truth, then this could work. And he'd wanted family for such a long time.

end Following Me.


End file.
